


Embrace

by BlackSkyandRoses



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (Only a little then fluff), Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blood Family, Cuddles, Cullen has Lyrium Withdrawl, Cullen learns he doesn't have to deal with shit on his own, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hugs, I won't pretend the Inquisitor can magic away his lyrium problems, Kinda, Loss, Love, Seriously Cullen fix your goddamn roof it's gonna snow, Tumblr Prompt, chosen family, the author seriously has a thing for chosen family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:57:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSkyandRoses/pseuds/BlackSkyandRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Cullen was known for many things around Skyhold - his ability as the commander of the Inquisition’s forces, his skill in combat, his relationship with the Inquisitor, and his hair. Eventually, however, he became known for his hugs.</p><p>(Various members of the Inner Circle, The Inquisitor, and Mia all have a moment with the Commander. Fluff, humour, love, loss and a little bit of angst that is quickly soothed with fluff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cassandra

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a post I found on tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks to the ever lovely Eluined for the beta and the working title. I suck at titles.

Commander Cullen was known for many things around Skyhold - his ability as the commander of the Inquisition’s forces, his skill in combat, his relationship with the Inquisitor, and his hair. Eventually, however, he became known for his hugs. “Safe and solid, protecting and proud”, Cole had told the Inquisitor. And it was very true. He was the perfect height to hug, warm and comforting. Plus the fur on his cloak would tickle when you hugged him. Not that many people would admit to wanting to hug the Commander. And yet, almost every member of the inner circle had hugged the Commander at one point or another. In joy, in sorrow, or in comfort. And that made them family.

 

They  had returned from Val Royeaux, discouraged and upset. The Order had fled from the Chantry, and no help would be forthcoming from there. The Chantry itself wasn’t willing to speak to the Inquisitor. Cullen had gathered that it hadn’t gone so well when they returned, the Inquisitor stalking past with a face like a storm cloud. Iron Bull followed, herding her towards the makeshift tavern. He nodded towards Cullen.

“Don’t worry, I got this. You deal with the Seeker.”

“Thank you, Bull, I - what?”

Bull jerked a thumb over his shoulder, towards the lake. Cullen looked past the bustle of soldiers, past Varric and an unknown blonde elf, towards the frozen lake.

Cassandra was standing on the docks, staring out at the lake with her arms crossed. She was facing away, but given her posture,  he would be willing to bet that she was giving the frozen water her best scowl.

Cullen turned to ask Bull exactly what in the Maker’s name had happened, but the Qunari had already disappeared, chasing after the Inquisitor. Making a mental note to ask after Saragra later, Cullen walked down to see Cassandra.

She was shifting from foot to foot, a sign of anxiety that Cullen had never seen from the taciturn warrior before.

“Cassandra,” he approached cautiously. She was shivering, he now saw, and when she turned around, Cullen was surprised to realize that she was on the verge of tears.

“Commander.” She swallowed thickly. “What do you need?”

“Are you quite alright? Leliana said there was a confrontation with the Lord Seeker.”

“I...there was. He.. he dismissed me!” Cassandra’s resolve broke, and she finally broke down. She had left the order because she no longer agreed with its ways, but that did not mean the Lord Seeker’s words hadn’t pierced her to the core.

Cullen reached out, awkwardly and pulled her into a hug. He made a point of keeping his distance, leaning in without moving his feet. He understood how hard it was to leave the order that you had dedicated your life to, but at least he hadn’t been insulted and humiliated by Knight Commander Meredith afterwards.

Cassandra stiffened at first, and then started to shake even harder. Her entire world was crumbling, and her trust in the Seekers and Lord Lucius was shattered. On top of that, there was a hole in the blighted sky.

Cullen gently drew her in closer. Cassandra drew in a shaky breath, and let it out slowly.

“I regret letting you see me like this, Commander,” she said, regaining some control of herself.

“Do not worry, Cassandra,” Cullen said, deliberately using her name. “Trust me. I understand how hard it is to leave the order you have sworn yourself to. At least I did not have a public confrontation with my former Knight Commander afterwards.” he said, echoing his earlier thoughts.

Cassandra managed a wan smile. “I - thank you, Cullen. I appreciate it.”

Cullen squeezed her briefly - as much as it was possible with both of them wearing plate armour. He pulled away and clapped her on the arm. She returned the gesture, and they both smiled. Colleagues and brothers in arms. And now friends.

“Come on. I’ve got some new recruits to train, and I want them to see what a talented warrior can do with a shield.” Cullen made the offer, knowing it would take her mind off of her troubles and help kick the recruits into some semblance of competent fighters.

“I would be honoured,” she replied. She paused, and managed a smile. A real one. “Afterwards we can make sure the Inquisitor hasn’t demolished the tavern in her own frustrations.”

Cullen shook his head and smiled a little.

“Perhaps it is too much to hope that the tavern can hold up to her, Bull, and the Chargers at once, but a man can dream.”

Cullen turned and started to walk towards the new recruits, unsheathing his sword as he went.

“Recruits! It is time for you to put your newfound skills to a new test! Seeker Pentaghast is going to spar with you today!”

The look on the faces of the new recruits almost made up for how awful the rest of Cassandra’s day had been. Almost.  

 

 


	2. Iron Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is drunk. Very, very drunk. So is Iron Bull. Somehow, this results in hugs.

Cullen and Iron Bull were drunk. So very, very drunk. So were Varric, Dorian, and the Inquisitor, as well as a dozen or so members of the Inquisition’s rank and file. The Inquisition was celebrating the slaying of the Inquisitor’s first dragon, and doing it in style before Josephine could organize her fancy fete.

“Here, try this! It’ll put some chest on your chest!” Bull roared, thrusting a mug into Cullen’s hand.

“What is it?” Cullen squinted at the brew in his hand.

“Just try it! The Inquisitor managed three cups. See if you can beat her record!”

Cullen glanced over at Saragra, who was seated on one of the tables and laughing at one of Varric’s stories. She was swaying the tiniest bit, and flushed in the face.

“Well, we can’t say she beat me without trying,” Cullen chuckled, and swigged back his drink.

It tasted vile, and burnt like Andraste’s holy fire. Cullen spluttered as his eyes watered and his nose burned.

“What in the maker’s name?!” he gasped when he regained some composure.

“Ahhh good man! You recovered faster than Dorian!” Bull boomed, oddly proud of the Commander. He poured out another two mugs of the amber coloured liquid.

“Drink up, the record is three!” Bull handed Cullen another mug and clinked it against his own.

Cullen took a deep breath and steeled himself, tossing back the second cup.

Again, he coughed and spluttered, eyes watering. He was starting to understand why Dorian and Saragra looked so drunk.

“Second one isn’t so bad. The nerves in your throat are still dead from the first one,” Bull clapped him on the shoulder.

Cullen nodded weakly, shaking his head to clear it. Unsuccessfully. He noticed that the chargers had gathered and were watching. Krem was grinning like a fool, knowing what was going on. He handed Bull two more mugs, and Bull passed one to Cullen. They toasted.

“To taking out a high dragon like the warriors of old! To good fights, bad drinks! _To the Inquisition!_ ” Bull roared, tossing back his drink. Cullen’s head was spinning, but he was eager to make the record, so he tossed back his own drink. Again, his throat burned, and his nose tingled. Perhaps it was his imagination, but it seemed to burn just a little less this time.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the proffered mug from Krem, clinking it with Bull’s empty mug.

“To the Inquisition! To our soldiers! To the lovely lady inquisitor!” he slurred, not noticing the looks the last declaration got him. Especially from the lady herself, who blushed and hid her face behind her mug, pretending not to hear.

He tossed down the fourth (and probably final) drink, and dropped his mug, victorious. He felt elated, buoyant. He grinned at Bull, and pulled him into a spur of the moment hug. Why not?

The chargers cheered raucously, shouting and clapping.  Bull hugged Cullen back, practically lifting him off of his feet, armour and all.

Cullen laughed, his voice hoarse from shouting and from the hellbrew Bull had been feeding him. He staggered when Bull put him back down, still laughing.

Krem slung an arm around him, and he leaned on the man, still grinning.

Friends, warriors, family.

 

 


	3. Leliana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana and Cullen talk about the woman who marked both of their lives so deeply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I accidentally made my Warden both Queen of Ferelden and a Mage. I know that's not really canon but it's also a nice mashup of both of my main playthroughs so...? I felt like it just worked better this way.

Cullen climbed the steps to the rookery, his hands full of papers. He shuffled through them, debating internally what was of the most importance. When he crested the steps, he saw Leliana sitting at her table, staring down at a piece of paper.

“Leliana? Is this a bad time?” he inquired, not wanting to disturb the woman.

She looked up, and favoured Cullen with a rare smile.

“Commander. Not at all, I was expecting you. In fact, I have something you may want to see.”

Cullen settled into the chair next to Leliana, and pulled the parchment towards him.

“What’s this?”

Leliana settled back into her chair, smiling. She looked quite pleased with herself.

“I managed to track down our wayward Queen.”

“Elena? You managed to track her down? King Alistair must be so pleased! Is she alright? What is she doing? Where has she been?” The questions spilled out before he had a chance to stop himself.

He looked down at the parchment and scanned it quickly, smiling. His feelings for her had faded years ago, the product of teenage infatuation, but he was still pleased to hear from her. He owed her his life, and she was his Queen, after all.

Her words were warm, and she greeted Leliana as an old friend. He suddenly recalled how close the two women must be, since Leliana had been at her side when she and King Alistair had stopped the fifth blight.

“Do you miss her?” he asked quietly.

“She was - is - my best and closest friend. She’s the only person in this world I trust completely,” Leliana answered quietly, looking out of the window. “I am pleased she is safe, away from Corypheus’s reach. Though I dare say I would rather her be back in Ferelden with Alistair.”

Cullen hesitated a moment, and then reached out, putting his hand on her arm.

“Have I ever told you,” he started, hesitantly, “About the time she managed to cause complete chaos in the tower with a single spell?”

Leliana looked over at him with a wan smile, and he could see the guarded look in her eyes coming down. For the first time.

“Wait. Is this the story involving a case of mice, three firecrackers, and the grand enchanter’s favourite hat?”

Cullen grinned, despite himself. “You’ve heard this one?”

“No, she wouldn’t tell me!” Leliana’s eyes lit up wickedly. “Tell me.”

Cullen leaned forward conspiratorially, and dropped his voice.

“Well, she hadn’t yet passed her Harrowing, and was practicing a more advanced spell…”

They stayed that way for some time, swapping stories about the woman who had changed both of their lives, who had saved both of their lives. Leliana told him stories from the road, about the two wardens she had followed to the very ends of Ferelden, to the very brink of the blight itself. She told him about her bravery, and her foolishness, and her love. How she used to sit for hours and listen to her stories, cuddled up into her dog, and later cuddled up into Alistair. How she and Wynne worked together to keep the party well stocked with potions, and how she used to take on Oghren in drinking contests she knew she couldn’t win just to keep up morale. She told Cullen about the time the camp had been attacked at night, and how the Warden and Alistair came stumbling out of the same tent, half dressed but still ready to defend their friends to the end.

Cullen told Leliana what he could recall of Elena from the circle, how she had made friends of both templars and mages alike. How she had been witty, and clever, and sarcastic. How she had managed to cause chaos and yet never get caught. As they talked, he was struck by the similarities between the warden and the inquisitor. He hoped Leliana and Saragra would grow to be as close as Leliana and Elena.

They talked long into the night, sharing past adventures, working out the pain over a letter written by a Queen, a friend, a confidant.

They didn’t hug, no, but Cullen’s hand remained on Leliana’s arm for a long time, and she occasionally placed her hand on top of his.

Sharing secrets, becoming friends. When Cullen finally departed for his tower, he felt wrung out, renewed, yet lighter. His past constantly haunted him, whispered to him from the  box in the bottom of his desk and the back of his mind.

For her part, Leliana went to bed with a quiet mind for the first time in a long time. As she went to sleep, the thought slipped across her mind that maybe she would allow herself to have friends again. Saving the world had a tendency to make friends of people.

 

 


	4. Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and the Commander finally become fast friends over their chess games. 
> 
> Heartbreaking confessions, solidarity, snark, and Dorian being a pain. References to Cullen x Inquisitor and Dorian x Bull.

The chess game between Cullen and Dorian had become a weekly ritual when Dorian was in Skyhold. They were both clever and capable players, even if Dorian did have a habit of getting overconfident and leaving himself open to attack because of it. They enjoyed the chance to sharpen their skills, hone their abilities and unwind from the stresses of their daily lives. They chatted about everything, and Cullen came to a surprising conclusion; he rather liked the mage. He was cocky, yet oddly charming and intelligent.

When he returned from Redcliffe with the Inquisitor, he seemed subdued. His robes seemed less flashy, even his moustache seemed to droop. When he arrived for their usual game, it was with none of his usual pomp and bravado. He settled himself into his chair, looking at Cullen with a forced smile.

“Well Commander. Are you ready to suffer defeat again?” he said, in an attempt at his usual cockiness

“Not particularly. Which works out well for me, since I don’t plan on losing,” he said, arching his eyebrow.

Dorian stared at the board for a long moment, and then sighed, a heart wrenching, despairing sound.

“I’m sorry, Commander. I suppose my heart just isn’t in the game today.”

Cullen looked over at Dorian, concern etched into his features.

“Dorian. If you would rather, we could skip today. We could just talk, or…” he trailed off awkwardly, unsure of where to head with that sentence.

Dorian swallowed back the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. He had already talked with the Inquisitor after Redcliffe, but she had likely been good to her word and remained silent on the topic.

“Commander. You are a good man, and you've been a friend to me here, where so few people are willing to even speak to me. I owe you an explanation, at the very least. Both out of gratitude, and so you can know the story before the rumours start flying about. I would not have you see me as that harpy in a chantry hat Mother Giselle paints me."

Dorian paused, and took a deep breath. Cullen could see the man was gearing himself for a confession.

"I suppose in order for this to make sense, you need to know that I - I prefer the company of men.”

Cullen was silent for a moment. “Ah. I suppose your family… disapproves?”

“In a word, yes. You must also know that I am the scion of house Pavus, the repository of its hopes and dreams. As such, I was bred to be the perfect son, the perfect heir, the perfect mage. That's what we  _do_ in Tevinter, we breed the perfect people where every deviant habit, every flaw, is an abomination and must be crushed out. I make no effort to hide my distaste for some… aspects of my homeland, but this one I have been silent on for some time.”

He drew in a shaky breath, and let it out slowly. He’d hoped that the telling would get easier the second time around, but so far it wasn’t.

“My father... wanted the perfect son. The perfect mage to take over his role in the magisterium, the perfect son to get married and give him the perfect grandson. And. when he realized he didn’t have that…”

Dorian looked away, glaring angrily at the courtyard.

Cullen looked over at the man’s shaking shoulders and wondered just how deeply it would hurt to be rejected just for being who you were. By your own family. He scooted his chair next to Dorian’s and wrapped one arm around his shoulders.

“If this is too much…” he began awkwardly.

“No no. I think.. I think it’ll get easier each time I tell the story. There are so very few people I would tell the story to at this moment anyway.”

Dorian took a deep breath.

“As you know, blood magic is ‘forbidden’ in Tevinter,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yet that doesn’t stop everyone and their grandmother from practicing it in secret. My father… my father.. he tried to change me! He wanted to use a blood magic ritual to turn me into this perfect son that would marry the girl and be everything he ever wanted! I.. I found out about it. I confronted him. It was ugly. I left."

He choked back the rage and hurt that bubbled in his chest. He didn’t break down, wouldn’t break down, not because of what that man did. He leaned into Cullen’s arm, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

“Dorian. I wish I could help,” Cullen said softly.

“You have helped, Commander. The chess games are marvelous distraction.”

“Yes, well. I wish I could do more than just promise nobody in the inquisition will ever bother you over your choice in partners. Your father is mistaken, and you are perfectly fine the way you are.”

Dorian managed a semblance of his normal grin.

“Ever the noble Commander, you are. Trying to fix the world through chivalry.”

“Is it not working?”

At that, Dorian was forced to laugh, the first real laugh since the ugly confrontation in Redcliffe.

“You truly are a treasure, Commander. A jewel among these uncivilized southern lands.”

Dorian reached forward and hugged the man properly. He was unsurprisingly solid, and the fur of his pauldrons was surprisingly soft. Like Bull, he carried the faint scent of the polish used to keep weapons and armour clean and oiled, but there was also a lighter scent that Dorian would be willing to wager came from the Inquisitor. It was a faint impression of her perfume, a memory of past embraces.

“You’re not so bad for someone from the mysterious and terrifying north,” Cullen shot back, laughing.

“Ah, Commander. If only you could see the beauties of my homeland.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about them, then. I’m a little busy for travel these days.”

Dorian grinned and squeezed Cullen briefly.

“I do think that I’m almost slightly envious of the Inquisitor, Commander.”

Cullen grinned, feeling slightly goofy. “What?”

“You give commendable hugs. It would be a shame if that were to get out around Skyhold…”

“You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Well. Maybe I’ll be quiet in the unlikely event that you win this match. If I win, however, I’m taking full gloating rights over the game. And the hug.”

Cullen buried his face in his hands. They were well and truly friends now, and he supposed he was already paying the price. Secretly, he was glad Dorian was starting to return to his former self. Even if that did involve an extraordinary amount of gloating, and the occasional teasing about the Inquisitor.

Cullen made a mental note to tease Dorian about Bull at a later date, and gestured to the board.

“Your move, Dorian.”

 

 


	5. Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine once again kicks Cullen's ass at Wicked Grace, and then gloats delicately. And Ladylike. 
> 
> A lady has no tells, Commander.

She had kicked his tail at Wicked Grace. Again. Cullen sighed, and dropped his head into his hands. He looked up at Josephine, who was sitting there with that wicked diplomat’s grin of hers. The one that looked knowing, sly and proud all at once.

“Aaaahh, Commander, you’re getting better. Slowly. Incrementally. But you’re getting better,” Josephine’s soft voice floated over the table, over the cards and coins scattered among the mugs.

“Maybe one day I’ll beat you at this game. I’m starting to learn your tells, lady ambassador.”

“I keep telling you, Commander. A lady has no tells. Also you will beat me the day Cassandra starts wearing dresses.”

Cullen chuckled. “Well if I can at least beat some of the others, I’ll be happy. I need to win my dignity back.”

Josephine’s smile widened. She looked positively delighted with the opening Cullen had left for her.  

“Oh, I don’t know Commander. I think some people rather enjoyed watching you lose your dignity. Particularly our _dear_ Inquisitor.”

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen dropped his head back into his hands. “Leliana’s right. You lull people into a false sense of security and then strike with surprise.”

Josephine laughed, delighted she had finally gotten one over the Commander. Usually she left the others to tease him, but some of the most frequent offenders were out on the Storm Coast with the lady Inquisitor, leaving her to tease Cullen in her own way.

“Ah, Commander. Perhaps after I teach you to play cards, I will teach you how to strike with your words as capably as you can strike with your sword.”

“Are you going to teach me to dance, next?”

“Actually, that is something I was going to bring up at the next meeting when the Inquisitor returns. If we are going to the Winter Palace, we should be suitably prepared…”

Before she could continue, Cullen thumped his head onto the desk.

“Please, Josephine. Trounce me in another around if you must, but no more talk of dancing.”

Josephine obliged willingly.

Three rounds and rather more gold than he was willing to admit, Cullen gave up.

“Enough! I’m not about to lose my armour again. Especially if the Inquisitor isn’t around to see it,” Cullen said it before Josephine could this time.

Josephine stood up and offered Cullen her hand, the picture of a graceful winner. When he stood up and took her hand, she pulled him into a hug, a genuinely sweet smile on her lips. Her perfume smelled like honey, as thick and rich as her accent.

“Aaaah Commander. Eventually we will make a competent card player out of you.”

Cullen just chuckled and gave the ambassador a fierce hug.

“Eventually. And then you can boast to all of Orlais of your accomplishments.”

“That truly would be an accomplishment worthy of the inquisition.”

 

 


	6. Mia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saragra and Mia conspire to surprise Cullen with a reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wound up being heavily Inquisitor involved, but I still love it. Cole makes an appearance to narrate people's feelings. He's useful like that, when it's not your emotions being read out like the town crier.

Saragra dashed out to the courtyard when Leliana’s runner knocked on her door and announced that her guests had arrived. She had given strict orders that their arrival was under no circumstances to be announced in the usual manner, and she had convinced Rylen to keep Cullen busy for the afternoon. She had a surprise for Cullen, one she’d worked hard on, and she would be damned if it was about to get ruined at the last minute.

It had started with a letter.

Cullen had tossed her a letter one night when they were working late in his office.

“This is all your fault, you know. Encouraging me to write to my family. If they show up unannounced at Skyhold one day, I’m blaming you completely,”

Saragra unfolded the letter, curious.

_Cullen,_

_I was glad to receive your last letter. You sound happy. It's been--never mind. I just hope you are well. Which reminds me…_

_Saragra? Not Inquisitor? Not Her Worship, the Herald of Andraste? Your last letter was far too short._

_Love,_

_Mia_

Saragra grinned.

“Uh-oh. I think your sister is onto us.” she teased.

“She always was too smart and too inquisitive for her own bloody good.”

“She cares about you. They all do. I’m glad you wrote them.”

Cullen sighed and sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. In the flickering firelight, it shone like heavy gold. It was all Saragra could do to keep herself from reaching over and running her hands through it herself.

“So am I. But as I said, I’m holding you accountable if they show up here before this mess is over.”

“Don’t you want to see them?” Saragra asked, confused.

“I do. But not until this mess is over. Maybe… maybe when we’re done, we can take a quick trip to see them. We can go see my family and your clan. What do you think?”

Saragra stood up and walked over to Cullen, depositing herself onto his lap.

“I think that sounds lovely.”

Mia, however, had other plans. Not content to wait until everything was over, and determined to pry a little bit more, she had written to Saragra directly. Cullen would be exasperated, but Saragra was delighted to hear from Cullen’s family. Particularly when Mia had basically written that the family had heard the rumours and pieced it together with Cullen’s casual use of her name in his letters, and were thrilled to invite her into the family. And so they had begun corresponding in secret, and Mia finally admitted they were worried they wouldn’t get to see their brother again, her heart broke a little and she accepted Mia’s plea to come to Skyhold.

Saragra was waiting in the lower courtyard when Mia and the escorts she had sent arrived in Skyhold. There was a small amount of chatter when they rode in, mostly surprise at the lack of announcement. Even the merchants were usually announced, in case anyone wanted to do some trading of their own.

Saragra looked at the woman sitting astride the dapple grey mare and grinned. She had long blonde hair that cascaded down her back in curls. It was the exact same shade as Cullen’s hair. When she dismounted and rocketed towards Saragra, however, she realized her eyes were a pale green instead of the amber colour of Cullen’s. (Later Varric would state this was a relief to him, as the thought of Curly having a twin was simply too much to bear.)

Mia ran up to Saragra and made like she was about to give her a hug, but stopped awkwardly.

“My lady... your worship... it is so nice to meet you. I am truly honoured.”

Saragra looked at Mia for a long moment, one eyebrow raised.

“Really? Position and manners at a time like this?” She pulled Mia into a fierce hug, brief but powerful.

“I’m delighted to meet you too. Truly I am. But I know you are eager to see your brother, so come on.”

“I-” Mia made to protest, for fear of snubbing the Inquisitor of all people, but Saragra grabbed her by the wrist and was dragging her towards the steps up to Cullen’s office.

“I’ve arranged for Cullen to be detained in his office all day with Captain Rylen. I’m sure by now he’ll welcome any interruption.”

Mia grinned. There was a wicked streak in this elven woman, alright. She could already see why her brother had fallen so hard for her.

Saragra reached the door to Cullen’s office and dropped Mia’s wrist. She knocked on the door, grinning excitedly.

“Enter!” Cullen barked from the inside. He sounded annoyed. Good.

Saragra pushed open the door and strode inside, but instead of crossing over to Cullen’s desk, she simply stepped to one side and let things unfold.

Mia took a few steps into the room, and stopped, staring at her brother. He’d changed so much since the last time she’d seen him. He’d grown up into a powerful, broad shouldered man.

Cullen stood up, and took a few steps towards them.

“Mia? What in the Maker’s name are you -”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mia bolted across the room and hurled herself into his arms. Rylen retreated to where Saragra stood, and watched the scene, smiling a little.

Cullen suddenly found himself with his arms full of his older sister, her face buried in his pauldrons as she fought back tears. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and tightened his fingers to stop them from shaking as he took several deep breaths. Mia smelled like his childhood home, like his mother’s kitchen. Just like she always did. That faint scent of cinnamon and spices mixed with the flowers his mother always kept on the windowsill in good weather.

Mia’s grip on his arms was so tight it almost hurt, but he didn’t care. He shifted his hold on her and lifted her up, laughing to keep from crying. It hurt, but in a good way. It reminded him of what he had missed, what he had almost thrown away in his anger and hate ten years ago. He would have felt guilty if Mia wasn’t crying into his pauldrons, and if it didn’t feel so fucking good to see her again.

“Maker’s breath! Mia, what are you doing here?” he finally managed, setting her back down.

“I didn’t want to wait until this was over and risk never seeing my little brother again,” Mia confessed, looking up at him.

Beside Saragra, Rylen bit back a snicker at seeing the Commander referred to as a “little brother.”

Mia stepped back and looked Cullen up and down. She smiled, approving.

“Brother. You look good. The Inquisition has been good to you.”

“Better than you know.” Cullen smiled down at his sister, but his eyes flicked over to where Saragra was leaning against one of his bookshelves when he said it.

Mia glanced over her shoulder at Saragra and Rylen, and smiled again.

“I knew it!” she gloated.

Cullen groaned. It was about to start.

Rylen leaned over and whispered into Saragra’s ear. “Inquisitor, I think the Commander and I have done enough work for the day, don’t you?”

Saragra nodded. “I believe so, Captain. Take the afternoon off and enjoy it.”

Rylen nodded to Cullen, smiled at Saragra and slipped out the door. Saragra crossed the room to where Cullen and Mia stood.

“Commander, you are to take the rest of the afternoon off and visit with your sister. No arguments. I will meet you at sixth bell for dinner in the gardens.”

She placed a kiss on Cullen’s cheek and turned to leave, but Cullen caught her arm and pulled her into a proper kiss, wrapping one arm around her waist. He tried to convey in his gestures what he couldn’t do in words - his appreciation and love and gratitude, all wrapped up together.

When they parted, Saragra blushed a little and smiled up at him. Mia placed a hand on Saragra’s arm, and whispered her own thanks.

When Saragra left Cullen’s office, she paused on the battlements to take in the afternoon sun. The wind was low, and it was almost nice out. She was gazing out at the view when Cole appeared beside her.

“The smell of her hair, reminds me of home. But this is also home now too, family here too. Blood family and chosen family, all fusing in together. Tightness in my chest, but from love, not fear. Feels good to see her again, I missed them so much. But I’ll never be home again without you.”

Saragra smiled and glanced over her shoulder at the boy.

“You walked by Cullen’s office, I gather.”

“Yes. There are many feelings there. He feels almost the same way as he does when he’s with you. It’s love. A different kind of love, but it runs deep and strong.”

Saragra smiled. “Yes, it would. I am glad to hear it.” She suddenly felt gleeful and affectionate. She wanted to do something nice for everyone, and had an idea.

“Cole, would you like to come down to see the horses with me?”

“Yes. I like the horses. They’re friendly. I like to feed them apples.”

“Well, let’s stop by the kitchens then, and see what we can arrange.” She linked her arm with Cole’s and headed down the stairs. She couldn’t wait until tonight, to see Cullen and his sister again over dinner. Somehow, she felt like it would be a very interesting meal. She wondered how many stories she would be able to coax out of Mia.

 

 


	7. Saragra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saragra visits Cullen and helps him through a bad night. It's a little angsty, but ends all fluff.

Cullen was on the floor of his office, shaking. His head ached and his vision was blurry. Heart pounding, hands shaking, nauseous and weak. The lyrium sang to him, sang promises of power, of making the pain go away and lulling him to sleep. He wrapped the blanket around himself tighter and started to repeat the Chant of Light, sobbing out the words. He started with Benedictions, trying to draw out strength and courage from the words.

_Blessed are they who stand before the wicked and corrupt and do not falter…_

His muscles tensed and spasmed as another ripple of pain ran through him. He locked the cry behind gritted teeth and kept going.

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._

The same chants he used to recite as a templar, feeling exactly that. A champion of the just. Protector of the innocent. Now he recited those same words, trying to drown out the siren call of the lyrium.

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._

But who were the righteous? The templars who had failed to protect the innocent? The mages who had rebelled? The Chantry? The Inquisition? The room spun and Cullen shut his eyes, trying to focus. It was so hard. He was shaking, the stone floor digging into his knees, cold, so cold, but sweating by the fire.

_In their blood, the Maker’s will is written…_

But just what the fuck was the Maker’s will? Cullen didn’t know. He was just a broken soldier trying not to puke his guts up into the fire. Trying selfishly to break the lyrium leash that he’d willingly tied himself to all those years ago. He took deep, gasping breaths as the next wave of pain came, stronger this time. His eyes watered, and he didn’t know if it was from the pain or if he was crying.

He let out a cry of despair and slammed a fist into the stone floor. He felt his mind slipping, tilting like the room around him. He didn’t know what day it was; he tried desperately to cling to some memory to help orient himself.

Saragra had left for an expedition to the Hissing Wastes… no, that wasn’t right. She’d come back, full of triumph and trophies.She’d come back that morning, and there had been a meeting. A meeting, right. With Josephine, and Leliana, and even Morrigan.. what had they talked about?

Cullen couldn’t remember, and he was so afraid. Afraid of forgetting things, now that he had things worth remembering. Once he might have given up his memories, given up the memories of Kinloch Hold and what had happened, memories of Kirkwall, of death and destruction and despair. But now... but now he had memories that were worth keeping. The feeling of triumph when they had started the Inquisition. Sparring with Blackwall, drinking with Bull. Travelling with Cassandra and Varric, training his recruits. And Saragra. The Inquisitor. Seeing her from afar, marshalling her troops. Throwing herself into battle, political or physical. The way she frowned when she concentrated. The touch of her skin, the Vallaslin under his fingers. Loving her, being with her.

Cullen took several breaths, attempting to steady himself. He would not give any less to the Inquisition than he had the Chantry, but Saragra had expressly forbidden him from returning to lyrium when he confessed that he didn’t want to.

He switched to the Canticle of Trials. He focused, forcing his foggy mind to bring forth the words. His voice was hoarse, and his throat ached, but he dragged the words forward.

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me…_

The words, as familiar and comforting as an old blanket. He sagged forward, resting his head on the cold stone.

_I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm…_

Cullen couldn’t afford to be weak. He couldn’t afford to let his personal issues stand in the way of his duty to the Inquisition. To the Inquisitor. To the world. His stomach heaved, and his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears and feel his pulse in his wrists. He felt weak, light headed, breathless. Focus. Focus on the words, force yourself to remember.

_I shall endure..._

Cullen moaned the next sentence, making it his mantra. He would endure. He would not give in. He had been through worse than this before. He would not give any less than his whole self to the Inquisition. Where he had faltered before, he would stand. This he promised himself, the broken soldier with the healing heart and sweaty hands.

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder…_

This time, he didn’t whisper the words alone. A presence behind him, soft and warm. Perfume, low and musky. Arms wrapped around his waist, a kiss on the back of his neck. His name whispered in his ear, reassurances of love and promises not to leave him. She was here with him. How did she know? She shifted, settled in more comfortably and pulled him closer to her, cradling him to her. Cullen’s head still ached, his vision was still blurry. But the shaking was stopping. He grabbed onto Saragra, tight enough to leave bruises that he would kiss the next day. She stroked his hair, told him stories. Chanted the verses with him, verses she had learned for him. Cullen didn’t know what she thought of them from a religious standpoint, but she understood why they gave him strength. She called to the elven gods and the Maker, both of them seeking solace in each other.

She remained that way with him until he felt able to climb the ladder to his room. There, she stripped him bare and wiped him down with a cool cloth. It felt glorious on his overheated skin, almost as good as her embrace. They laid down in his bed, looking up at the starry sky. The lyrium still called to him, but it was drowned out by her voice, her encouragement.

Cullen fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her waist and his head on her chest. He could do this. With help from her. Maker, whatever he’d done to deserve her… he was thankful. So thankful.

 

 


End file.
